I. I love vampire hunters turned thralls. Brainwashed into adoring little pets to creatures of which they once chased down with the goal of killing… UGH just someone who used to hate the thing they now address as master… bonus points if they get their memories erased and have no memory of their hunter past :3
He is trying (and failing) to stop thinking about urination.
Laying in his still twin-sized bed (Mom can’t afford a bigger one, but Jackie understands, he does wish his feet didn’t hang off the end though) he stares at his ceiling.
He’s gotten his GED, so no school. It’s been an unspoken decision between him and Mom that he’s not going to college. He’s unemployed, at the moment, only a little bit left in his account after he left his toxic fast food job. His chest has healed quite well from surgery. The hospital smell on his clothes has faded, the only evidence of his last admittance being adjusted medication on his dresser, next to his T-shot supplies. His desktop computer is off, but still warm from earlier use.
It’s noon, and Jackie is very, very, embarrassingly aroused.
He was told on day one of getting on Testosterone that it would increase his libido, but holy shit, he didn’t think it would be this bad.
When he was a younger teen, sex never appealed to him. Probably a combination of dysphoria making him disgusted at anyone touching him, and the medications he was put on when Dad died and his mind went haywire. It’s almost amusing now that he’s getting himself off every day. Sometimes multiple times a day. He’s not sure if that’s normal, but god, does he need it.
He sighs and flops over to his side. He should probably get some lunch, but the wetness between his legs begs to be taken care of. As does his small, throbbing t-dick. Which is growing in pretty well, thank you very much.
Perhaps his excessive porn watching that morning (thank god for the internet and thank god he has his own desktop) is to blame for being this horny this early in the day. Perhaps it was what he watched.
It was pretty standard fare, at first. He likes watching straight cis people stuff mostly, imagining himself as the guy (with the penis!) fucking the girl. He likes girls quite a bit, but over the years he’s found that boys are pretty hot as well. It used to make him anxious, being a guy and wanting to fuck another guy, but at this point he’s so lost in the horny soup that it stopped bothering him. So what if he likes both? Gay porn is just as hot, sue him.
Scroll, scroll, click, click, save, save. Jackie was sipping away at his Monster as he sat at his desk. Sometimes he watches stuff just for the sake of it, just cause he’s curious. He did find he enjoys BDSM stuff quite a bit through this method, even if he has no clue how to actually do it with someone in real life. Too bad he’s a schizophrenic trangender recluse who never talks to people. Sometimes he wishes he had friends that didn’t exist in his delusions. Or someone to fuck.
He ended up clicking on this watersports video because the girl was really pretty, not thinking much of it.
It seemed pretty unsanitary to him at first, watching her piss all over the guy's dick. But he didn’t click off. He didn’t mean to watch the whole thing, really. He also didn’t intend to replay the video when it was over, because it didn’t seem long enough. Really, he didn’t.
But he did. His energy drink sat unattended, his eyes glued to the screen. He watched the video again. And then again. He felt very hot and weird. He barely noticed he had been squirming in his raggedy old desk chair. He wanted more of this.
He was about to start searching for more videos of erotic urination when he stopped, reality hitting him.
This is gross.
His face had gotten even hotter, this time with shame. Weirdo.
Jackie decided he’d had enough, he’d gone too far down the rabbit hole, time to turn it off and do something productive with his time.
His legs were shaky and his mind was spinning when he stood up. He needed to distract himself somehow. He went to the kitchen and did some dishes he’d been lazily neglecting. He thought about the video. He went back to his room to pick up dirty laundry off the floor. He thought about the video. He debated on playing some Sonic Adventure 2 Battle but decided against it. He thought about the video.
He tried to stop. Really, he did.
But the idea of pissing on someone like that was so fucking hot to him, despite how gross it was, that he could not, for the life of him, stop thinking about it.
Jackie is nineteen. He squirms around in bed. He kinda has to go to the bathroom. He thinks if he does, right now, he would cum from it. It makes him feel anxious and sick and so very, very warm.
What the hell is happening?
Jackie had to take another trip down the street to the sex shop for a better dildo yesterday. The smaller glass one he bought last time with his vibrator was good to start out with, but wasn’t really cutting it anymore. The older guy behind the counter called him ‘sir,’ which felt pretty nice as he paid for the far larger silicone dildo. He didn’t end up using it that evening. Mostly because he hung out with Mom for a bit after dinner. Partly because he wasn’t sure if he would be able to fit the thing in him.
To his credit though, he did take it out of the box and cleaned it so it’d be ready whenever he was. Which was starting to become now.
If I get off by fucking myself like a normal person, I’ll stop thinking about it and I can move on.
He finally gets up off the mattress. Grabs the dildo off his dresser. He’s not thinking straight when he heads to the bathroom.
-
Jackie is twenty-seven. And he wakes up to the quiet sound of shifting covers.
Still halfway in sleep-world, warm and terribly comfy, he feels a warm hand on his chest. It moves to steady itself on the bed next to Jackie as the man next to him tries to leverage himself gently.
“Oh,” Jackie sleepily groans, “no you don’t.”
Jackie’s eyes aren’t even open. He drags his arms out from under the covers to wrap around Jameson, who is, for some reason, trying to get up. His darling boy resists (barely) as Jackie pulls him back down to the bed. He huffs out a breath and tries moving again.
“Baby,” Jackie whines, “don’t leave me. So warm and cozy. Stay forever.”
Jameson huffs and bats at his chest in response while he again attempts to crawl over Jackie. Whining dramatically, Jackie grabs Jameson around the waist and tugs him back down against his chest. Jameson tries wriggling out of his grasp, and finally Jackie peeks his eyes open.
It’s dark. Not even morning. What time? Who cares? Jackie just wants to cuddle and sleep.
“Honey, it’s so early,” Jackie complains, releasing his grip on Jameson so he can sit up.
“For your information,” Jameson signs, his hands barely visible, only illuminated by a streetlight outside, “I need to use the bathroom.”
Ugh, really? Jackie should probably let him go, the loss of warmth and comfort a necessary evil. But then he gets an idea.
“Oh, do you now?” Jackie begins to grin, mischievously. His hands come back to grip at Jameson’s lean waist.
“Guess you’ll have to go through me first.”
Jameson blinks. Debating his options on whether or not it’s worth it. And apparently, his bladder wins out, because now he practically leaps off the bed, off Jackie’s chest, hoping to land on the floor. Jackie is faster. He wraps his arms around Jameson’s waist and wrestles him back into bed. Jameson kicks his feet wildly, Jackie easily pinning him back down to the mattress. He squirms and fights it, but Jackie’s size and strength beat out Jameson and there is no escape for him at this point. Resigned to his fate of being bed-bound, Jameson huffs out a breath irritably, and lets himself relax in Jackie’s grip.
Jackie grins, victorious. “Good boy. Now we’re gonna cuddle. And go back to bed.”
Jameson’s hands twitch, signaling Jackie to release his wrists so he can sign.
“So needy,” he says, eyes rolling, but playful. “Aren’t I allowed out of your sight for more than thirty seconds?”
“Eh,” Jackie says, rolling back down to the side, wrapping an arm around Jameson’s waist, “I could. But I don’t want to. I want you right here. All nice and warm. You can go when it’s a reasonable hour.”
“Jackie, I really need to go.”
“Nah, what you need is to let me be big spoon so I can go back to sleep.” Jackie’s eyes slip closed again as he snuggles closer.
Jameson isn’t having any of it. Rolling over, he pokes at Jackie’s cheek so he’ll open his eyes again.
“I’m not staying,” he says, the determined thing, “It’ll take just a minute, and I’ll be back. I promise.
“Nope. Not happening.”
Jameson sighs out his nose, but a hint of a smile tugs at his mouth.
“If you don’t let me go,” Jameson signs, “I’ll have to piss all over you.”
Jackie freezes.
Oh.
He stops breathing.
Oh.
It was a joke. It was meant as a joke. They both know this. They both know Jackie’s fooling around because he’s tired and wants to cuddle, and Jameson will win the argument in the end and go to the bathroom to take a leak and then he’ll come back and everything will be fine.
Jameson is not serious. It was a joke.
And yet. Jackie can’t move. And he knows, without Jameson saying it, that his face has gone very, very red.
“Uh,” Jameson sits up a bit, unsure, “are you okay?”
He’s confused. Jackie’s sweet boy doesn’t know what he said. So Jackie scrambles for an excuse.
“Yeah. Yeah, uh. I’m okay.” It comes out a bit strained. Jackie meant for it to sound more casual.
“Did I say something wrong?” Jameson is sitting up now. Jackie lays next to him, trying to look up at him. He’s finding eye contact difficult all of the sudden.
“No, baby, nothing wrong.”
“Did I take it too far?”
“No.”
Jameson cocks his head slightly to the side. “You’re acting funny. Why?”
Jackie wants to squirm. Jackie doesn’t want to answer the question.
“Just…go ahead. To the bathroom. I’ll survive. Then we can go back to bed.” Jackie tries smiling. It feels fake and tight. He really tries to not think about Jameson’s bladder. He really, really tries to not think about what Jameson just said to him.
And how much it turned him the fuck on.
“Jackie,” Jameson signs gently, still confused. “Why is your face all red? After I said the thing about the urine?”
“Um.” Jackie has no reasonable answer. “Uh. It just reminded me of something. Uh. Yeah. It’s okay, really. Just go.”
“But I want to know,” Jameson says, leaning forward a bit. Oh, great. He’s curious now.
“It’s nothing, baby, really–”
“Did you like the fact that I said I wanted to piss on you?”
Oh.
Jackie suddenly finds his ability to speak greatly hindered. His face is on fire. He feels very hot. He feels his t-dick in his briefs throb.
Oh, shit.
Jameson isn’t stupid. In fact, he’s quite clever when he’s curious. Jackie practically sees the gears turning in his head as he makes the connection. And when he does, oh, Jackie can’t see the red on his face too clearly in the dark, but he assumes it's there.
Jackie needs to pivot. Now. Jackie needs Jameson to go across the hall and piss in a toilet like a normal fucking person so Jackie can stop thinking about it and go back to sleep. Jameson lifts his hands to sign.
“Jamie, honey, uh,” Jackie tries cutting him off, desperately, “it’s not like that, uh, I’m not–it’s just–uh–”
Jackie has nothing. Jameson just looks at him. And then he moves his knees and now he’s sitting on Jackie’s lap. Jackie feels Jameson’s bulge through their boxers. He really, really tries to ignore it.
“Jackie,” Jameson signs, gentle, “It’s okay if you are into…that sort of thing. I like things that I think other people think are weird too.”
Jackie swallows. He wants to agree–there’s a dog crate and a leash for Jameson next to his bed for fuck’s sake– but finds it difficult. He doesn’t know why this is so hard for him. Every single one of his fantasies and kinks he’s thoroughly put thought and research into. He’s okay with them all.
Except this one.
Years of fantasizing, hiding it, trying not to think about it by indulging in other kinks, pretending like it’s not a big deal, like it’s something he’s not into, it’s all going out the window. Someone knows about it now.
“It’s not–I mean, I’m not super into watersports or anything,” he starts nervously, realizing at this point there is no getting out of having this conversation. Jameson looks down at him, listening politely.
“Uh, it’s, uh, just something I…think about sometimes, ya know? It’s not like I’m into it for real, I just–it’s fun to think about weird stuff occasionally, like–you know when you see something online and you entertain the idea, but you’d never really do it cause it’s gross, and weird, and–and so when you said you wanted to–to piss on me, I thought about that for just a second, not really a lot and it–I–”
Jackie hates this. He doesn’t want to be talking about this one fucking fantasy he’s never shared with anybody. Jameson is different, he supposes, but this is…too much.
Jameson looks down at Jackie. Jackie babbles and fumbles with his words. It would be almost amusing to an outsider, to see the ever-so-dominant and in control Jackie beneath his boy, embarrassed out of his mind.
When Jackie finally trails off, they sit in silence for a moment. And then Jameson rocks forward, ever so slightly, his bulge lightly rubbing against Jackie’s dick.
He doesn’t mean to whine. He really didn’t expect to be so hard and sensitive, either. The whine that escapes his mouth is so quiet, but easily heard in the silent morning. Jameson’s eyes go a bit wide.
“Jackie,” Jameson finally signs, a bit nervous, “Do you want me to…go on your lap?”
He’s unsure. He doesn’t know what to say to indulge Jackie’s disgusting ass fantasy. Jackie doesn’t want to indulge at all. A voice in his head screams to push Jameson off his lap right now and pretend like none of this happened.
And then, there’s that stupid, horny part of himself that is so fucking turned on by the idea of his puppy pissing in his lap like a good little mutt that he doesn’t. He doesn’t push Jameson away. He might be shaking. He’s embarrassed. He’s ashamed that this is turning him on at all.
And yet. Jameson doesn’t seem…too bothered by any of this. He experimentally rocks his hips again. Jackie whimpers again, despite his best efforts to silence himself.
“I really have to go, Jackie.”
Jackie’s breath comes out shaky. He swallows. Tries evening out his breathing. Jameson won’t stop grinding on him. He fails.
Jameson’s hands come to press into the mattress on either side of Jackie. He arches his back, closes his eyes, and grinds down, sighing as he presses harder against Jackie. He rocks, back and forth.
And now Jackie finds himself at the crossroads. He can tell Jameson he doesn’t want this, and Jameson will be obedient and lay off. But that would be a lie. That would be the biggest lie Jackie ever told.
He knows he’s wet without even needing to look. He can feel it. He can feel his opening growing slick as he throbs against Jameson, beginning to soak through his briefs. This is ridiculous. It’s disgusting how much he wants Jameson to empty his bladder on him.
But at this point, it’s too late. He wants this. Jameson wants to provide for him.
“It’s starting to hurt,” Jameson’s hands come up to sign, his eyes beginning to droop, that sweet puppy look coming over his face. “I really want to go.”
It’s dirty. And gross. Yet Jackie hangs onto Jameson’s words almost desperately. He never imagined anyone would want to do this to him, with him.
And finally, Jackie makes a decision.
He sits up. Shoves Jameson harshly against the bed, pushing him off his lap (oh, how he misses his hardness already) and pinning him again against the covers with hands around his throat.
Jameson’s eyes are blown out wide, his breaths speeding up. Jackie snarls down at him, hungry, desperate, so scared but so exhilarated that this is happening.
“Poor pup,” he growls out. He presses his hips down, desperate to feel Jameson against him again. He’s gotten harder.
“Puppy has to go?” Jackie pants out, “He needs to piss?”
Jameson nods enthusiastically, hands wrapping around the bigger ones grasping his neck. Jackie is rubbing himself all over Jameson’s still clothed cock.
“Dirty thing, asking to go on my lap.”
Jackie’s mind is beginning to run, trying to decide what he wants and how he wants it. And, oh, where is this happening? Not on the bed, Jackie doesn’t want to ruin the mattress, not on the carpet, it might smell, not in the kitchen on the linoleum floors, Chase could walk in, maybe outside? Maybe–oh. Well. The bathtub would make cleanup way easier, he supposes.
Jameson silently whines, tilting his head back, bringing Jackie out of his thoughts.
“Bet it hurts. Holding it in.” Jackie takes one of his hands back and drags it down, down right above where his cock is, near his belly. He presses down and Jameson gasps, squirming.
“Poor bladder all full,” Jackie says, coming out more as a gasp than words, rubbing his t-dick over Jameson’s own dick, the only thing separating them being very, very slick fabric.
“But you’ll be my good boy and hold it for just a big longer, right?”
Jameson whimpers up at him, eyes squeezing closed. He doesn’t want to wait. But he’s good. He’s obedient. He will hold it.
Jackie grins down at his puppy, so perfect, shivering underneath him. The anticipation is killing him, but he supposes this is what it’s all about.
It’s about a minute of grinding later–a minute of Jackie removing his other hand from his puppy’s neck so he can brace himself on either side of him and grind against him, his sweet thing–when Jackie finally gets up off of him.
Jameson’s collar is one of those things they put on, leave on for a day or two, then take it off when there’s company over. It’s usually not packed away with their other toys considering how much it’s used. Luckily the blue leather collar is sitting right on the nightstand, which Jackie doesn’t hesitate to snatch.
The collar is on in practiced motions, pulling the soft leather through the buckle, Jameson being so good and lifting his head for Jackie. The heart-shaped tag lays against his big t-shirt.
“What a pretty boy you are,” Jackie mumbles, sitting up to tower over him. Jameson lays back and instinctively spreads his legs a little, pulling his knees to his chest. He’s panting. He’s twitching with effort to not go before his master says. It’s probably just for show, Jackie knows, and he doesn’t really have to pee that bad. But oh, it’s absolutely precious.
Jackie’s boxers are so slick he’s a bit sick of wearing them. So he takes them off. Jameson watches hungirly as strings of slick cling to his cunt as he peels off the briefs. Fuck, his t-dick is throbbing.
With everything exposed, Jackie resumes his position against Jameson, more desperate than before, rubbing his folds against his still-clothed cock, hard and starting to leak through his boxers. It feels good, but the anticipation for what Jackie really wants kinda ruins it.
He thinks he’s ready. He didn’t realize he needed to mentally prepare himself for indulging in an embarrassing kink, but here we are.
Jackie leans up. Jameson is panting, thoroughly turned on now, and for a moment, thrusts his hips up, missing Jackie’s touch. Adorable.
“Stupid thing,” Jackie mutters softly, “bet you’re excited to go. Excited to piss all over me like the dirty pet you are, aren’t you?”
Jameson whimpers quietly, his thighs coming together slightly.
Jackie stands. His feet feel almost unsteady on the carpet. “Okay. Come here.”
He slides his left arm around Jameson’s back, and then catches his right beneath his puppy’s knobby knees. Picks him up. And carries him, bridal style to the bathroom.
Thank god it’s right across the bedroom. Jackie is going to explode if they don’t get things rolling now.
The light is flicked on. It feels too bright. Jackie thinks he would prefer to do this in the dark, hiding his shame as it were, where no one can see. But he wants to watch it happen, if he were completely honest with himself. Jackie sits Jameson in the bathtub. His face is flushed and he can see the excitement in his eyes, dark hair over his forehead and his bulge prominent through his boxers. Jackie crawls in with him and slides so he's on his back, legs spread, cock and cunt red and angry and dripping.
“Okay,” Jackie breathes out. He’s finding catching his breath hard. “Okay, puppy, come here. I will tell you when you can go. Come here.”
Jameson, obedient, good, climbs on top of Jackie and starts grinding against him again. Jackie can tell he wants to fuck him. He won’t unless Jackie gives him permission.
Here in the tub, Jackie sees the sweat on his brow. He’s nervous. Now that they’re in the bathroom, it seems way more real.
Jackie is nineteen again. He’s riding his huge dildo, finally able to push it in at least halfway. He’s in the shower, having it suctioned to the floor. It feels fucking amazing. His face is red as the video he watched earlier replays in his mind, over and over. He really, really needs to pee.
“Cock out,” Jackie orders Jameson, “Now.”
His puppy wastes no time in pulling down his boxers, his cute dick springing out, hard and flushed and leaking. Jameson is shaking.
“Please,” he begs, “please let me go. I want to go so bad…” He pushes his hips forward and presses the head against Jackie’s t-dick. Fuck, that’s good. It makes Jackie make another one of those pathetic whining noises.
Jackie is nineteen again. He wants to go all over this stupid dildo in the shower and make a big mess. His mother isn’t home. He lifts himself off the cock and rubs himself on it. He’s moaning. He’s shaking. He’s embarrassed. But he wants this. Oh, it’s so dirty but he wants it.
Jameson is rubbing and sliding his dick over Jackie’s little one, grasping it in a shaking hand, running it all over his lips and his hole and Jackie’s dripping so bad slick is sliding down his ass and this is so embarrassing but he wants it, he wants it, he wants it.
Jackie sits up a bit. He wants to watch. His legs are shaking. He grabs Jameson by the thighs and positions him where he wants him. This is happening. Oh, god, this is happening.
“Don’t get it in my hole,” he gasps out, “don’t want an infection.”
Jameson’s eyes are wide. Jackie can tell he’s nervous too.
“Go on,” Jackie practically whispers, “I want it. I want it. Go ahead. You can let go now.”
Jackie is nineteen. Jackie presses his cunt against the dildo. Jackie imagines a man, a real one, a cis one, beneath him. He lets go.
Jackie is twenty-seven. And Jameson is pissing on him.
It’s loud. Jameson is whimpering pathetically, eyes squeezed shut, face red in embarrassment. It’s warm. It doesn’t stop. It sprays from Jameson’s cock onto Jackie’s stomach and inner thighs and on his t-dick. It’s absolutely disgusting. Jackie is shaking in ecstasy.
Oh, god.
Jackie becomes aware of the sounds he’s making. It’s a high pitched warbling moan of sorts. He spreads his legs further, the stream hitting his cunt. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck.
“Dirty, fucking mutt, going all over me, such a nasty thing you are, oh, oh, that’s it, good boy, oh–”
Jackie is shaking so fucking bad. He can’t stop looking, eyes glued to his puppy’s spraying cock. It is single-handedly the hottest thing he’s ever experienced. As well as the least sanitary. He might have to talk to Henrik about this one. He’s not thinking of that right now. Jameson’s head is back, pretty throat and collar on display as he empties his bladder all over Jackie.
Jameson’s stream slows, then finally stops. He’s shuddering. Jackie is trembling. They both breathe, loud and ragged.
“Puppy.”
Jameson looks up, a bit nervous. Jackie licks his dry lips, voice ragged. Shaking, shaking.
“That was amazing.”
Jameson smiles a bit in relief, happy to have done this for Jackie.
Trembling hands make their way down. Jackie’s entire lower body is covered in piss. He feels dirty and disgusting. He feels like when he was nineteen, shaking in the shower, watching his own piss go down the drain, pussy still dripping, his t-dick small but throbbing. He didn’t stop shaking for a while, and told himself he probably wouldn’t do something so gross with a partner. It’ll just be his own private little fantasy.
But now. Now it’s far past a fantasy.
Jameson is looking at him. His eyes are wanting. And Jackie’s cunt is aching.
“Daddy wants your cock, now.”
It comes out desperate. Jackie is finding it hard to care.
It’s heaven when the head of Jameson’s cock breaches his sopping wet hole. He’s getting some kind of infection from this, he knows, but he needs to cum so badly he doesn’t think he minds.
Jameson’s mouth drops open, his eyes closing, pressing his cock in deeper. He’s not particularly big, Jackie has dildos bigger by several inches, but it’s the fact that it’s him, the fact that it's his sweet boy’s cock fucking into him that makes it satisfying.
Jackie wraps his legs around his pet, bringing him closer. Jameson tries easing into it, but both of them are so ready to get off his hips start thrusting faster and faster, deeper and deeper until both of them are panting and shaking, Jameson bracing himself on the sides of the tub, chests almost touching.
Jackie pushes their foreheads together and goes in for a messy kiss. Jameson easily reciprocates, letting Jackie press his tongue against his own.
Jackie feels himself getting close quicker than he thought. Jameson pulls out, seemingly the same way, grasping his cock and rubbing the head against Jackie’s swollen t-dick, side to side, faster and faster, the sounds loud and lewd.
“Oh, fuck,” Jackie gasps out, “yes, oh, fuck me, make me cum puppy, be a good boy, cum all over me, oh, oh–”
He cums first. He doesn’t recognize the sound he makes. Long, whiny, trill, ending in a gasp, Jackie gasping for air, legs shaking, and he desperately tries to watch Jameson while he rides out his orgasm, he wants to see him cum, and he does, oh, it’s thick and drips all over Jackie’s cunt and stomach, hot and white, Jameson trembling through it, eyes squeezed closed and neck exposed, the metal of his pretty collar glinting off the light.
The gasps are ragged. They are both shaking. Jackie spreads his legs as far as they’ll go, everything on display.
“Puppy,” he whimpers, because he doesn’t know what to say, because he wants to go too, he wants to release on Jameson’s dick, return the favor as it were, just like in his fantasies of having a man beneath him and releasing. He knows how good it’ll feel. He knows. He wants it.
He licks his lips. His mouth is dry. He’s still shaking. “Puppy, daddy wants to go too. Real bad.”
He doesn’t know what he’s asking for in particular. But Jameson seems to understand. He pulls Jackie up. He shifts around so when he leans back he doesn’t hit his head on the faucet. Jackie positions himself so he’s sitting on Jameson’s cock, trying to not sit right on his balls, but enough to feel his length between his lips. Oh god. Oh, fuck, this is happening.
Jackie closes his eyes. He lets his bladder go. All over Jameson’s cock.
It’s a noisy spraying sound, but the moan he lets out is louder. He could cum again, just from this. Jameson rubs soothing patterns into his hips with his thumbs. It feels good. It feels so, so fucking good, especially when he wiggles a bit and rubs his oversensitive t-dick against the head of Jameson’s cock, his stream of fluid spraying all over it.
You’re disgusting. Dirty. This is filthy. You should be ashamed.
Jameson’s thumb comes down to play with Jackie’s dick, barely rubbing it, and it’s too much, too much, Jackie cums again, he didn’t think he actually would be able to, but he does, the last streams of piss spraying out, all over Jameson, his dirty puppy, his face is so red, but he’s being such a good boy, oh god, it feels so good, so good, Jackie riding out his orgasm with shaking thighs and pathetic moans leaving his mouth.
They stay that way for a moment. Panting. Jackie hears fluid going down the drain. He thinks he’s crying. He doesn’t know why he’s crying.
Jackie lowers himself down. On top of Jameson. He couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else on the planet. He doesn’t realize he’s praising him out loud. He kisses Jameson, gentle, thankful.
“--so good for me, so perfect, my filthy piss slut, such a good boy, it felt so good, I’ve been wanting to do this for so, so long, such a good puppy for daddy, so good–”
Jackie kisses and praises and Jameson shivers beneath him for god knows how long. Maybe until they’ve stopped shaking. At some point they stand up and peel off their remaining soggy clothes. They start the shower. Jameson is washed up well with Jackie’s soapy hands, cleaning himself as well as he can.
They get out. Dry off. Jackie holds his puppy’s hand when they go back to the bedroom, piss-covered clothes left behind. They’ll deal with that later. The collar is taken off and placed back on the nightstand. They get dressed. The sun is beginning to make itself known, the bedroom ever so slightly lit blue. They crawl into bed.
Jameson falls asleep quick. The mindless patterns being traced on Jackie’s chest slow to a stop, fingers flattening, Jameson’s breaths even out.
Jackie, on the other hand, is exhausted, yet absolutely wired.
He never thought he would do this. It felt so good. It was so dirty. But so good.
He falls asleep wondering exactly how he’s going to ask Henrik about urine-related infections. He falls asleep wondering how in the hell he managed to land with someone willing to do this with him. He falls asleep content. He falls asleep.
First kiss? Spidey's (and Wade's) brain go out the window.
Unfortunately, most of Peter's body is poison. :(
I decided to combo the questions and there's an explanation under the cut.
Peter produces venom both on demand but also unconsciously when he's excited/high on adrenaline etc.
When he's producing venom, it mixes into his saliva and acts like a neurotoxin, which can produce intense highs that can quickly tip over into oversensitivity and pain.
His mouth is EXTREMELY sensitive because of this. Wade's skin is like the fourth of july for his brain.
Prolonged internal exposure (kissing/oral/licking a cut/etc) creates a headrush that leaves most normal people unconscious. Skin to saliva contact is just tingly.
(Making out for long periods of time/oral with MJ was NOT on the table- which had MJ coming to wrong conclusions.)
His blood is straight up poison. Would not recommend ingesting. (Don't eat brightly colored spiders, kids!)
His sweat is so negligible as to be be unnoticeable- unless you're wringing towels into your mouth.
His semen also produces intense sensation- mostly oversensitivity, that can be incredibly pleasurable, but can also tip into pain and paralysis for most people. Peter has no idea his semen can do this- because he's never experimented with it (always a condom. ALWAYS).
Because Wade has an incredible healing factor, as well as extensive nerve damage and scarring, he doesn't experience the negative aspects of Peter's venom. A big enough dosage could cause paralysis and death, but it's also going to have to be a WAY bigger hit than Spiderman would normally apply.
This is a super fun learning experience for them both!
Once again, thank you so much for all the support and the asks, it's been so fun figuring Peter's venom out and finding ways to play with him!
GOD this is so insane I wrote this scene out from the discord, with @hemlock-dreams saying setting it up a blow-out fight with the Avengers after they were treating Wade poorly and he had to intervene so Spidey didn't kick their ass. I wanted to write the aftermath, and then hemlock DREW IT. screaming/ crying / etc etc etc.
So with that in mind, and knowing that the below is about 95% porn/ NSFW, enjoy. if you know me in real life AVERT THINE EYES unless you are into this sort of thing in which case, please proceed .
Wade watches Spidey pace, his shoulders tense and his movements sharp.
"Sooooo," Wade breaks the silence. "That was...fun..."
Spidey snorts derisively. "I don't like hypocrites. They were being assholes."
Wade nods. Makes sense, make sense. Only—
"You okay, buddy? Cause I haven't seen you lose it that bad since...now that I'm thinking about it, uh, never, and we deal with assholes all the time on patrol."
Spidey hisses— a sharp, primal sound that, combined with the points of his fangs, does absolutely jack shit to calm down Wade's burgeoning erection— and turns towards Wade. He stabs a finger at him.
"The Avengers don't get to fucking talk to you like that."
Wow, okay. That's adorable. Wade laughs dismissively. "News flash, Webs, that's always how they talk to me-awhoooakyy—"
He cuts off as between one second and the next Spidey has him pinned. Spidey's body—huge, hot and firm—presses him against the wall. His fangs are so close they're nearly brushing the fabric of his mask.
"No, Wade," Spidey rasps. "They. Don't. Talk. To. You. That Way."
"Okay," Wade squeaks. He's so turned-on he's a little lightheaded.
Spidey's pressed so close that Wade wonders if he can feel his heart beating. He's gotta feel Wade's dick, hard as nails and now tortuously trapped against Spidey's hip. Wade holds his breath as Spidey doesn't move away—if anything, he moves closer. He runs his nose over Wade's masked cheek and inhales.
"Webs," Wade manages, because, let's be clear, he's into this, holy shit (holy shit!!!) is he into this, but he's a little confused about what the fuck is happening right now—
Confusion that does not get any clearer when Webs tugs at his mask. Maybe because of the confusion, he lets Spidey pull it up—up over his mouth, up to his nose—before he makes an involuntary noise at it going any further.
"Webs," Wade tries again, strangled, because Spidey's looking at him like he's gonna eat Wade alive and Wade is going to fucking let him—
"Promise?" Spidey says. His voice is low and husky and goes straight to Wade's dick.
"Yeah, sure, I promise, whatever you want," Wade babbles. He has no idea what he's promising, but who cares? Not Wade!! Not right now!!
"Good," Spidey murmurs, and then leans in and (holy shit!!!!) kisses Wade.
There's a split second where it's just a kiss, soft and exploratory, and then Spidey's fangs scrape over his lip, drawing blood, and Wade can't help it: he lets out the sluttiest, neediest moan of his slutty, needy life, and, well—it seems to do it for Spidey because it getting eaten alive isn't too terribly far off from what happens next.
Spidey devours him: bites at his lips and jaw and chin, licks into his mouth and sucks on Wade's tongue. He kisses Wade with the intensity of a fucking category five hurricane—it's all Wade can do to keep up.
Spidey shoves one thick thigh between Wade's legs and grinds against him, which gets Wade letting out another absolutely pornographic sound. He can't help it, can't even pretend to be cool. He's rocking against Spidey's leg and clawing at his back with artless, desperate abandon.
It's so hot and so insane that Wade feels high— like, actually, legitimately high. His mouth goes hot and tingly and it's like Wade's senses start misfiring: Spidey feels like a drumline and tastes like purple, lurid and intoxicating.
"Are you fucking magic," Wade manages to slur in a spare, caught breath, "Or a like, fucking, incubus?"
"Hm?" Spidey says from somewhere around where he's biting at the hinge of Wade's jaw.
"Youfeelsofuckinggood," Wade pants, and yeah, he's rapidly losing his ability to fucking talk, which, wow. Achievement Unlocked.
Spidey pulls back to stare at him, and Wade can see little strings of saliva—hot pink and shimmery, pretty—on his fangs.
"Ooohhh, fuck," Spidey says. "Whoops."
"Whoos?" Wade echos stupidly. Spidey's so pretty. Prettiest boy Wade's ever seen.
Wait—thats a lie. Petey-Pie's the prettiest boy Wade's ever seen. Sorry, Spidey, but given, you know, Wade's never seen Spidey's face, Wade thinks he can be forgiven for that.
Spidey's the prettiest boy Wade's never seen, that's the correct version. Now they're both the prettiest.
Spidey laughs for some reason, a huff of amused air against Wade's mouth, which reminds Wade that holy shit, he could be kissing that mouth instead of just staring at it, so he does: leans up and licks Spidey's shiny pink spit, sucks his bottom lip into Wade's mouth.
Spidey moans, a deep sound that resonates through Wade's body like a bass drop.
"Shouldn't," Spidey says between kisses, "Fucked up—"
Oh. Wade stutters in his movements. Yeah—yeah. Okay. That—well. To be expected.
He goes to pull back, pull away, except Spidey hisses sharply and follows him, pinning him back against the wall. He rubs his mouth and nose against Wade's cheek and down his neck.
"Not like that. Bit you too much. Couldn't help it, feel so good, Wade. Got you too high," Spidey mutters against his neck.
Ohhhh. Okay. That explains the tasting purple thing. Goddamn, move over beer flavored nipples, there's a new unrealistic dream sex standard and it's Spidey and his magic drug spit.
Wade didn't think Spidey could get more perfect, but, well, here we are.
"Don't wanna," the next part Wade kind misses as Spidey licks over his carotid artery, but it ends in "—consent."
Oh. Oh. Now, hey, Wade's got to set some shit straight. He tugs Spidey back up to look at him, the polymer lenses of his mask round and shining.
"Fuck me up, baby boy," Wade tells him, as seriously as he can while being, as he knows now, fucking zooted on his venom. "I fucking want it, you gotta know how bad I fucking want you—"
Then Wade doesn't have to focus on words anymore because, thank god, Spidey slams their mouths together and gets to the fucking him up part, thank god, thank you-thank you-thank whoa shit—
The whoa shit is because Spidey picks him up and pretty much bodies him onto the couch, where Wade lands with an oof.
Spidey stands over him, tall and looming and both scary and extremely, mind-meltingly hot.
He points at Wade's belt.
"Off, or I'm gonna rip it off," Spidey growls, and whew, yeah, holy shit.
Wade gets his belt off faster than he thinks he's ever managed before, new record, and is barely able to get the start of the pants of his suit unzipped before Spidey loses patience and is on him, pulling roughly at the fabric until it's shoved down around his knees and then Spidey bends him in half so that Wade's trapped ankles are hovering over his shoulders.
Spidey lays stinging bites and kisses over his ass and the backs of his thighs, and when Wade can only pant and make embarrassingly high-pitched whines, Spidey hooks his thumbs into the meat of his ass and spreads him open.
"Can I—" Spidey starts to ask and Wade just about strokes out in his haste to say, "Yesyesyesyes, anything, everything, fuck me up."
"Thank fuck," Spidey says and then dives in.
Wade would like to state, for the record: he is no amateur at getting his ass eaten. He's, you know, been around the block. He's no blushing virgin, no shy maiden. He's gotten eaten out plenty of times, is what he's getting at here.
This? He was not fucking prepared.
"Oh my god?" Wade squeaks, which might be right after or days, because Spidey eats ass like it's his god-given mission in life to take Wade apart at the fucking seams.
Wade feels like he's losing his mind—it's so good and so intense, whatever pink magic is in Spidey's venom seems to crank everything up to fucking 11,000.
Spidey eats him out sloppy, too: wet and messy and obscene, moaning like it feels just as good for Spidey as it does for Wade.
Wade ends up grabbing on to his own ankles like the bitch bar in a Honda Odyssey, hanging on for fucking, he doesn't even know any more, life?? He feels hysterical, inside out, un-fucking-tethered.
The moment Spidey actually shoves his tongue in Wade's ass, Wade thinks he dies. Straight up blue-screens. When he comes back, it's to the sound of himself begging shamelessly.
"Please, please, please—"
The fact that his stupid pants are in the way and he can't see is suddenly the world's greatest injustice—Wade manages to get his last two brain cells rubbed together enough to yank his boots off and shove his pants fully off to land somewhere Wade could give two fucks.
This accomplishes two things: first, it lets Wade see the dark top of Spidey's head as he works Wade open and the way he's got Wade's thighs gripped tight between his fingers—spectacular, mind-blowing, scorchingly hot—and the second thing it accomplishes is Spidey going, "Fuck yeah, good girl," and spreading Wade open even wider for his mouth.
Wade thinks he dies again at that. Just a little, but who can blame him??? He's only fucking humanish.
"Webs," he keens. He tries to shove back but he can barely move like this. His leverage is shit, he's 100% at Spidey's mercy.
"Gotchu, I gotchu," Spidey says, which, understatement of the fucking year.
Never let it be said that Spidey doesn't have Wade figured the fuck out, because he doesn't play games: he slides two of his fingers into Wade along with his tongue, the slick of Spidey's combined saliva and venom making things way easier and wildly better than Wade would have imagined.
Wade garbles something nonsensical, flailing. His hand ends up hovering just over Spidey's head, indecisive on if he's allowed to—when Spidey pushes his head into Wade's hand, winks at him and then starts fucking Wade in earnest with his fingers.
If Wade wasn't in love before this, well. That would have done it.
Spidey finger-fucks with the same unhinged intensity and attention to ruin that he does eating ass. Wade digs his fingers into the dark material of Spidey's mask—wishes it was the hair he can feel beneath, but he can't say shit—and accepts his fate.
It isn't until Spidey genuinely starts teasing a fourth finger that Wade gets impatient.
"Webs, fuck, if you don't fuck me—" he threatens. He's not exactly an intimidating sight right now, knees by his ears and ass in the air, but he's still fucking Deadpool.
Spidey pulls back, biting at Wade's thighs like he can't help himself.
"Condom?" He asks when he finally manages to stop snacking on Wade's legs. Wade snorts and shakes his head.
"Don't have 'em. Can't give you anything, Webs, and you can't give me anything. Kinda my thing, remember?"
Spidey freezes for a split second as he seems to consider that, and then he rubs the exposed part of his cheek on Wade's thigh. "Huh. Yeah—yeah, okay."
Thank god because if Spidey was about to make him go to a bodega right now he was going to legitimately start murdering people.
Happy days for Wade (and the innocents outside), Spidey gets back on task real quick—he does something with his suit that Wade doesn't quite catch. What he does catch is the movement of his arm as he strokes his dick, hidden behind Wade's body.
Wade reaches out to touch, on god he wants to feel the hot length of Spidey in his hand, but Spidey catches his hand and brings it up to his mouth to kiss it.
"Sensitive," Spidey grunts. "Gloves on would be too rough, and gloves off—"
"Too ugly?" Wade offers. Spidey bites him, properly and sharp this time, and Wade hisses at the sting.
"Too good," Spidey corrects. "God, Wade, you've got no idea—if you want me to fuck you, next time, I promise."
Huh. Well. Wade doesn't know what to do with that information just yet. He tries not to hope at next time. He does know what he wants now, so he pulls his hand back and uses it to spread himself open a bit more for Spidey.
"Fuck," Spidey hisses, "Good—good, Wade, fuck," and then moans when he rubs the head of his dick against Wade's hole.
Wade barely manages to restrain himself from launching himself up and just sitting on it. He forces himself to be patient: all his wildest dreams are coming true right now and he wants to savor it, wants to take whatever Spidey's willing to give him right now.
Which, as it turns out, is a lot.
"Oh, fuck, fuck-fuck-fuck," Wade gasps as Spidey pushes in. Spidey's cock seems to get thicker in the middle, it goes on forever, and the stretch is so good it makes Wade's eyes roll back.
"Okay?" Spidey grits out, and Wade nods frantically.
"Holy shit, never better, knew it, knew you'd be big, baby, knew you'd ruin me," Wade babbles.
Spidey huffs, amused, and thrusts suddenly—a sharp motion that has Wade breaking off to moan.
"Yeah?" Spidey asks, "Think I'm gonna ruin you?"
"Already have," Wade confesses stupidly, too sincere. Spidey doesn't seem to notice though, he just smirks and leans in to kiss him as best he can with the position they're in. It's mostly a sloppy, open-mouthed touch of their tongues.
"Haven't even started," promises Spidey, and then, boy, does he get started.
Again, Wade would like to make a case for himself: he's been fucked so much! By so many people! A great deal of them super-powered!
Matty, Nate, the odd times Logan gets the itch to put Wade in his place—point is, Wade's been held down and fucked by people stronger and faster than him before, and it was great! 10/10!
Which is why this shouldn't be new or different for Wade, but it is. It's fucking outrageous: Spidey fucks him so hard, so good, that the world could be end outside and Wade wouldn't even know: all he can focus on is drag of Spidey's cock in him, over and over.
It shouldn't be different, but then that's Spidey for ya: everything he is and does seems to blow Wade's mind.
Wade's not as sensitive as he used to be back in GQ Wade days—the scars took care of that—but whatever witchcraft going in Spidey's venom seems to jumpstart all of his fucked-up nerve endings.
Pleasure shocks through him, lighting him up from the inside, where Spidey's making space for his cock, all the way to his fucking fingertips. His fucking nails feel erogenous.
He might be saying something—begging or whining—but who knows or gives a fuck. He feels incredible, all his normal pain transformed by the pleasure until it's all just one big tidal wave of sensation.
He's so busy just riding it out that he almost forgets about his dick until Spidey gets a hand on it. He makes a completely involuntary wounded noise and has to summon all the willpower in his body not to come.
"Spides-Spidey," he warns, panting, "I'll—fuck—I'll come—"
"Go ahead," Spidey says. The white eyes of his mask are narrow and intent on Wade's face. "Want you to, wanna watch. Gonna keep fucking you though, wanna make you scream."
Oh.
Well.
In that case.
Wade comes immediately.
It makes a mess on his chest where he's all scrunched up—he's gonna have to power wash the Pool suit when they're finished here but he doesn't care, doesn't give a single shit. Wade's too distracted having the best orgasm of his life. He feels like his brain is dribbling out his ears as much as his come is dribbling out of his dick.
"That's it," Spidey is murmuring when his ears turn back on, "Fuck, that's hot, wish your suit was off, wanna see you come all over your tits—"
Holy shit, Wade thinks wildly, entirely incapable of words. The mouth on Spidey—!
Spidey's true to his word—he doesn't stop fucking Wade. If anything, he picks up the pace. Wade can only squirm, an overstimulated mess, as Spidey pounds into him.
"Easy," Spidey tells him, "Be good, just take it, Wade, be good."
Good fucking night. It's so much: it's so intense and so overwhelming. It's so hard not to twitch away from it, but he forces himself to be still, forces himself to relax. Spidey hisses approvingly as Wade goes loose and pliant.
"Good—good girl," Spidey grunts and it's fucking unfair, the way he keeps slamming on all of Wade's buttons. Wade thinks he might go permanently blind with how hot it all is.
"Who made you?" He manages to wheeze incredulously. "Where did you come from? Fucking—perfect—oh my god, Spidey—"
Wade breaks off to pant as Spidey grinds against his prostate and sends white hot shocks of pleasure shooting through his body.
Spidey laughs, and it's low and dark. "Me? You've got no idea, Wade, you've got no fucking clue, what I want to do to you, the way you feel to me—"
Wade can only whimper helplessly as Spidey nails his prostate again and again.
Despite what Mormon fairy smut novels and AO3 would have you believe, there is such a thing as a refractory period, even for men "blessed" as Wade is with his healing factor. Normally he needs a good fifteen-twenty minute cooldown before he can even think about coming again.
A refractory period that Spidey appears to have taken as a fucking challenge. Wade never really got soft, not with the constant stimulation, but Spidey makes sure he gets fully hard again by sliding his hand over his cock: a slow, loose counter-balance to the hard, fast pace of his thrusts.
Wade's trying so hard to be good, be a good girl, take it the way Spidey wants him to, but he can't help but whine and shake his head when Spidey's grip on his dick changes—tighter, faster, with intent.
"I—Webs," he pleads, "I can't, s'too soon, no way—"
"You can," Spidey assures him, "You will."
He rolls the palm of his hand over the too-sensitive head and Wade chokes.
Spidey does something—Wade can't even begin to track anymore—but whatever it is it means Spidey has situated them so that they're closer now. The angle is different, somehow impossibly fuller, and Spidey's thrusts are slower, rounder, deeper.
Spidey's got one hand in the back of Wade's mask, pulling his head back so that Spidey can mouth at Wade's jaw and the exposed skin of his neck. The other hand he's still somehow got wrapped around Wade's dick, providing absolutely maddening friction.
"Webs," Wade tries again, desperate. His legs are shaking and his heart is going a million miles a second. He feels hysterical, out of his fucking mind, all of his nerve are endings screaming. There's no way. There no way—
"Wade," Spidey murmurs, dragging his mouth over Wade's frantic pulse point. "Come."
And then he bites him, his fangs sinking into Wade's neck.
And listen. LISTEN. Refractory period-shmactory period. Wade comes, with a breathless whine, to a haze of purple venom synesthesia. Coming feels like being fucking raptured: he's tasting colors, he's seeing sounds.
And just when he thinks it's over, Spidey comes, with a sharp inhale, moaning, "Wade, oh, oh, shit, fuck, sorry—" and Wade has one delirious moment of hilarity wondering what the fuck he could be sorry for, when he suddenly gets the aftershock of a fucking lifetime.
It's like coming again but from pure prostate stimulation: waves of shimmery iridescent pleasure radiating from his ass. It's incredible. It's un-fucking-believable. It's so intense it rides on a knife's edge between ecstacy and agony. Wade writhes, caught, as it doesn't end.
He sucks in air in a desperate attempt to not just pass the fuck out. Every time he thinks it might be done it crests again until Wade is a shaking, sobbing mess.
He's distantly aware of Spidey petting him, pressing his weight into Wade so he doesn't fall right off the fucking couch, and making soothing noises.
Finally, after a period of time Wade couldn't put a number to with a fucking gun to his head, it eases up. It softens into a heavy, lingering sweetness throughout his body.
"Holy shit," Wade croaks. Spidey makes a soft, concerned sound.
"You okay?" he asks. "I've never done that before."
Wade can't help it, he snorts loudly. Then he chokes when that sends a new wave of tingles through his body.
"Bullshit," he gasps when he gets his breath back. Spidey laughs.
"No, no, not that," Spidey says, amused. "I've done...most of that before. I've just haven't come inside anyone before. At least, not without a condom. Never wanted to risk it."
Wade blinks. He's still having some difficulty putting coherent thoughts together, but, like. What.
"Webs," he says slowly, "I just want to make sure you know that you like. Super-duper cannot knock me up. Please feel free to try your hardest, anytime, but—"
Spidey sputters, laughing again. "Risk my venom, Wade. My saliva makes people high? I can poison people? I never knew what my cum might do to someone."
Oh. Right, okay, that makes more sense. A delighted thrill goes through him at being any kind of first for Spidey.
"Well, mystery solved, baby," Wade says smugly. "It's like, literally orgasm batter, holy shit. I don't think my prostate's ever gonna be the same."
Spidey huffs out a relieved breath. "Good, okay—it seemed like it was good but also a little like you were dying, so I wasn't sure."
Wade shrugs. "I mean, maybe. It was fucking intense. Who knows what it would do to a normie, but dying's cake to me. If it is, it's worth it, holy shit. Wowza."
There's a secret little smile on Spidey's face where his mask is rolled up. "Yeah? You liked it?"
Wade stares at him incredulously. "Liked it? Spidey, I think you broke me. I haven't been fucked like that—haven't felt anything like that—ever. You've ruined me for all others."
There's a sound that comes from Spidey, a noise that Wade can only describe as a purr, rumbling through his chest. He tilts Wade's head so he can lean in, a breath away.
"Good," Spidey says, before he kisses Wade again.
Wade opens up immediately, greedily. He's not sure how long Spidey's going to let him have this, and he wants to get his fucking money's worth. He'll be beating his meat to the last hour for centuries.
They trade kisses, open-mouth and languid, until Spidey shifts and Wade realizes that Spidey's hard, pressing against his thigh.
He starts to reach out but then stops, remembering what Spidey told him mid-fuck: gloves too rough, but skin potentially good? Big if true, but Spidey hasn't lied to him yet. He dithers for a second, caught in indecision, and then elects to trust Spidey. He pulls his glove off and lets it drop to the floor.
He wiggles his bare fingers before Spidey's face for approval. "May I?" He asks, gesturing towards Spidey's dick.
Spidey takes a deep breath, his eyes on Wade's hand. He stares at it for so long that Wade starts to feel like he made a mistake in offering when Spidey speaks.
"Can I—" he rasps. He reaches out with his own gloved hand and touches Wade's naked one. He shudders.
"Wanna put your fingers in my mouth," Spidey admits. "Please?"
Well. That's not what he was expecting, but it's fucking scorchingly hot.
"Sure," Wade says, magnanimously. "Go for it."
Spidey makes a noise that Wade can only describe as a hungry, and brings Wade's hand to his mouth. He rubs his closed mouth over the pads of Wade's fingers before parting his lips and sliding just the tips into his mouth.
The sound that rips out of Spidey—low and needy and desperate—is paired with the sudden jerk of his cock against Wade's thigh. As if getting two of Wade's fingers in his mouth was on the same level of pleasure as Wade jerking him off.
Wade stares, wide-eyed, in disbelief. There's no way in hell he can get hard again right now, but goddamn if his dick doesn't try to make the effort.
Spidey slides Wade's fingers further into his mouth, to the second knuckle, and rubs his tongue against the undersides. When he groans, Wade can feel the vibrations of it against his fingers.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Wade swears, reverent. "Look at you."
Spidey moans. He pulls another one of Wade's fingers into his mouth and sucks. His dick twitches against Wade, hips hitching in a desperate attempt for friction.
Wade pulls his other hand up and rips his other glove off with his teeth so he can worm it between them and finally—finally—get his hand around Spidey's cock.
"Oh fuck," Spidey drools around Wade's fingers. It comes out more like "awfawk", but Wade gets the idea. Spidey's fangs drag against his skin and Wade shudders as the sharp tips catch on his scars.
"You like that, baby?" Wade croons. It's nice to turn the tables against him a little, now that Wade is operating with a few more functional brain cells. "My fingers in your mouth and around your cock?"
Spidey moans and nods, forcing Wade's fingers deeper. The tips bump up against the soft palate, hot and plush, and it elicites another deep groan from him. Wade jerks Spidey off with one hand and lets Spidey use the other to rub his mouth—alternating between running his lips over Wade's fingers and curling his tongue around them.
Spidey seems to love it—he gasps and moans and holds onto Wade's wrist in a grip that's definitely bruising. Which is great, fantastic even, but Wade's had a thought that's even better.
"Webs," Wade murmurs, "Got an idea. Let go of my wrist?"
Spidey lets go and Wade grins at him. "Feel free to stop me if you hate it, but I just want to try something."
And then he fucks three fingers into Spidey's mouth at the same time he jacks his dick. The response is immediate and deeply hot: Spidey keens and opens his mouth wider for Wade, his hips jerking against Wade.
"Holy shit, yeah, fucking-A, Spidey," Wade mutters. It's fantastic: the matching wet, slick slide of his fingers in his mouth with the motion of his hand on Spidey's dick.
It doesn't take too long for Spidey to start shaking, panting harshly against Wade's hand. Wade watches, enraptured. He wasn't able to pay that much attention the first time Spidey came, due to his own brain being dopamine soup, but he's greedily drinking in all the details now: the hot flush Wade can see peeking from underneath his mask, the hitching, involuntary moans he lets out. His mouth is red and swollen, shiny with spit and the venom he's leaking.
"God, Spides," Wade confesses helplessly, "If this is what it's like with my fingers, I can't wait to get my cock in there."
Spidey sucks in a sharp breath and comes all over Wade's hand, moaning around the fingers shoved deep into his mouth. Wade jerks him through it until Spidey taps out, his hand coming down to stop the motion of Wade's wrist.
"Wow," Spidey rasps once Wade slides his fingers out of his mouth. Spidey lets out a mournful sound once they're free, so Wade doesn't take them too far. He lets them rest on the exposed parts of his face— his cheek and his chin. Spidey tilts his head to press a kiss to them.
Meanwhile, Wade literally has something interesting on his hands. He brings his Spidey-cum covered hand up and inspects it.
It certainly looks like regular jizz. Wade wouldn't have guessed it's magic orgasm batter if he hadn't just lived through it. There might be just a faint iridescent sheen to it, but for the most part: yep. Looks like jizz.
Curious, Wade goes to lick it.
"Wade—" Spidey warns. "I'm, uh. Not sure what that will do to you. Might not want to do that."
Wade rolls his eyes. Adorable. "Websy," he chides, "Please. I am like the best person to try it. Fucking around and finding out is what I'm built for."
Then he licks Spidey's cum off his hand.
It tastes like—well, cum. Wade's not about to sit here on Michelle Obama's internet and lie about what jizz tastes like. It doesn't taste sweet or delicious or any of the other bullshit romance novels try to swindle people on. It tastes like jizz: salty and bitter. Maybe a little sharper and a little more acidic than the average guy's—and then Wade's mouth goes goes tingy and hyper-aware.
"Huh," Wade says. He rubs his tongue over his teeth and shudders. When he inhales he can taste—stuff. He doesn't know how to parse it. The air tastes Starburst-pink sweet and grassy green curious, terracotta worry, and beneath it all, a rich ocean blue of satisfaction.
He relays that to Spidey who tilts his head.
"Huh," he echoes. "Pheromones, maybe? I taste those."
Wade shrugs. Who knows, but it tracks with all the other synesthesia effects Wade's experienced from the venom.
"Hey, stick you fingers in my mouth," Wade says. "I wanna see what it feels like."
"Christ," Spidey mutters. He reaches up and hesitates. "Okay to keep my gloves on?"
Wade shrugs again. He's maybe a mite disappointed, given how bare he is in comparison, straight up Winnie the Poohing with his mask on, but he's certainly not going to judge.
He opens his mouth and Spidey slides two of his gloves fingers inside.
And, well, holy shit. He knew, obviously he knew that the mouth was a pleasure center. He just never thought about much more than taste and tongue and lips, yay!
His whole mouth lights up at the intrusion. He can taste the fabric of Spidey's glove: the unique material it's made of, Spidey's sweat and scent permiating it. He can feel each individual thread that make up the knit of it, and revels in the way the texture feels over his tongue.
The pressure and texture and taste of Spidey's fingers is so explosively good it momentarily makes Wade stupid.
He immediately understands why Spidey goes so wild for it. When Spidey pulls his fingers free he wants to follow them and shove them back in.
"Holy shit," Wade groans. "That's amazing. Your cum turns mouths into pussy. Moussy? Mussy?"
Spidey snorts. "Well, that's one way to describe it. A horrible way, but sure."
"Please let me get my cock in there some day soon," Wade begs. He's already dreaming about how fucking awesome it will feel—for him and for Spidey.
Spidey coughs. "About that, uh. Well…"
He trails off and Wade curses himself for assuming, his heart sinking.
"No is fine," Wade reassures him. "That's okay, baby. No pressure."
Spidey shakes his head. "Nah, that's not it. I've just, uh. Never done that."
Wade blinks. "Never…?"
There's a flush creeping down Spidey's cheeks.
"By the time I started sleeping with guys, I had my powers, and uh. Well, you saw. My fangs are a little unruly when I get excited. Seemed like a bad combo."
"Oh, baby," Wade croons. Another first!! Wade's going to die of happiness. "Maybe for some other scrub lord. But not for me. Please know that I am very, very into the idea of fucking your mouth with the fangs."
There's a pause where Spidey just stares at him, masked eyes white and round.
Then he says, "Jesus, what have we done? How the fuck are we going to get any patrol done? We're going to be fucking all the time."
Oh, fuck yeah, Wade thinks, right before he throws himself at Spidey to kiss him. Wade is on cloud fucking nine, and he doesn't even think the cum-venom can take credit. It's all Spidey: Spidey-Spidey-Spidey.
Honestly? Being hypnotized in the “pretty stupid obedient pet that can’t do anything unless told” is wonderful and lovely. However. I’m an absolute wreck over the idea of being hypnotized into a weapon, something strong and powerful and clever, but ultimately so, so obedient. Being hypnotized into topping, all rough hands and brute strength and perfect rhythm, except it’s all directed. Every single move, position, pace, all commanded by the handler, who in turn just gets to lay back and relax. Being a perfectly loyal hound, but no less dangerous. Having triggers used to help force down other submissives, a hunting dog on a leash.
fuuuuuuuck jameson in a dog muzzle......jameson with a bone-shaped ball gag and lil doggie ears.......jameson sleeping in a comfy locked crate.....jameson with his pretty blue collar holding his leash in his mouth..........yes
also jackie letting jameson touch him for the first time. jackie wakes up in the middle of the night horny as fuck and tries getting jameson to jerk off his tdick but jameson is all nervous cause hes not familiar with what jackie has going on basement-wise and doesnt want to make him uncomfortable. jackie gently guiding his hands and fingers, jameson curious yet careful, pads of his fingers stroking jackies cock and playing with his folds until jackie cant take it anymore and almost desperately wrestles jameson's boxers off so he can rub his dick against jamesons. it ends with jameson topping for the first time, fucking slow into jackie at first but then growing more and more intense. jackie cursing and moaning loud, jameson sticking his face into jackies neck as he fucks into him, sloppily playing with his dick. its a bizarre funny feeling for jameson, but jackie cant stop praising him and he ends up coming right inside, filling jackie up all nice. and then they kiss and kiss, jackie's hole dripping and both feeling wonderfully satisfied
more demon/angel stuff cause i love drawing jackie as a cool demon guy and jameson as his pet angel <3 also i didnt want to crop this cause the strap takes up such a small part of the piece so i just censored it 👍
just had the hot image of jackie grinding on jameson
jamie is fully clothed and jackie isnt wearing anything but a t shirt, rutting his tdick against jamie's clothed cock getting ridiculously turned on in the process. jameson desperately wants to be touched but has his wrists pinned to the bed while jackie huffs and groans against him. jackie tries maintaining composure but starts losing it the more desperate he gets, ending up coming from the stimulation. he lays against jameson, huffing out a laugh at the wet spot he made right on the front of his sleep shorts from how aroused he got. jackie strokes jameson through the slick fabric, still hard, teasing him, before he gets turned on again and finally lets jameson take off his shorts so they can properly rut against each other's cocks.
Our talk about how Anti LOVES possessing Chase and Chase loves being his in return makes me think of like.... Chase kneeling before Anti, looking up at him with such an adoring look while Anti's cooing about how cute he is being so obedient and good for him-- //SHOT
(I'M SORRY AS CEO OF ANTIAVERAGE STUFF THE MENTAL ILLNESS OF THESE TWO ARE ALWAYS ON THE FRONT OF MY BRAIN MAKEUP)
Chase worshipping Anti and his body and Anti looking down on him with nearly as much adoration HNNNNN
I also love Anti’s obsession with Chase, his need to have him and his need for Chase’s attention. In softer versions he’s almost like a puppy who begs for Chase’s every second and Chase loves to spoil him with his attention and affection.
In less soft versions, maybe he strings Chase along slowly until he’s dominating ALL of Chase’s thoughts. He makes himself Chase’s only outlet, his master. Chase looking at him like he’s the only thing in the world gives him the greatest high
Pardon me for being horny on the main but YOU GET IT. YOU GET WHAT I LOVE ABOUT ANTIAVERAGE SO MUCH. IT'S ABOUT THE POSSESSION. THE OBSESSION. THE-- //SHOT
ITS ABOUT DRIVE ITS ABOUT POWER HES ALWAYS HUNGRY HE WILL DEVOUR
Gjdhdkdm I couldn’t help myself 🤣
But yEs I love the way Anti just obsesses over Chase and they way Chase lets him or lets him in. It’s about Chase giving his entire self to this being that wants all of him. It’s the way Anti growls that he wants Chase and the way Chase begs Anti to take him
Jackie is more gentle with him than he is with JJ because Henrik actually doesn't like degradation at all. So instead he dresses him up pretty and praises him so hard his brain melts into mush.
Just wanted to say that the second drawing of Chase showing off his cage is very very good 👀 love it -A
Thanks so much! He's a show-off for certain. Chase has always struck me as the kind of person who finds comfort in permanent gear of one type or another. The small reassuring pressure of something related to his partner. Sure at home he can have a collar on all day, but he likes it to be constant so a cage hidden under clothes it is. Marvin has the key by the way, and they're not a very kind dom when it comes to denial. It's more about the constant presence of each other though! Marvin has a key on a chain and Chase has a silver cage. Pseudo wedding bands honestly haha!
I have given up @aris-trash-bin - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
